The Foolish Fancy of a Naive Boy
by Aeowynn
Summary: Cullen/Surana one shots. Written after getting inspired by Cme's ongoing Cullen Romance Mod. First fan fic piece I've ever written so constructive criticism is appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

_Tap, tap, tap, tap.  
_

Her steps echoed in the long corridor, despite her sandals being made of silk and not the steel boots the Templars wore. It was colder than usual and she held on to the sleeves of her robe to try to keep her hands warm.  
_  
Tap, tap, tap, tap._

"Erin, wait!"

She kept walking, but she could hear him running behind her, his steps echoing with hers until he caught up with her; her oldest friend, her only family, her brother. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Erin..."

"Do you realize what you are asking, Jowan?"

Her voice came out in a hiss but she wanted nothing more than to shout at him, grab him by the shoulders and shake him. The only things stopping her were the Templars standing nearby, silent and unmoving like heavily armoured statues. Jowan looked at her sadly.

"I need your help." She shook her head. _"Please."_

She continued to walk. She did not know where she was headed; she only wanted to be left alone. In the Circle that was almost impossible; every room had someone in it and in the halls Templars were watching their every movement with careful intensity. Even her new quarters was shared with three other mages. All she wanted to do was to scream.

"You can't abandon me."

She stopped again, but this time she did not look at him. Instead her eyes landed on a lone helmless Templar standing outside her quarters.

Cullen.

He looked at her and she saw a question in his amber eyes, a scowl in his features.

_What's going on?_

All she wanted at that moment was to be in his arms and tell him everything, but they would never be alone. They would never have the life together they dreamed of because despite the kisses and words of love they shared in secret, he would always be a Templar at heart, just as she would always be a mage. You could never run away from what was in your blood, unless you were made Tranquil... or killed.

"What would you do if you managed with your plan?" she whispered as she turned her gaze to her friend.

Jowan shrugged; it was obvious that he had not planned that far ahead.

"Perhaps we could go to Orlais, live on a farm."

She looked at him in disbelief and saw hints of a nervous smile on his lips.

"And if you become an abomination?"

It was a question she had to ask as the threat was something every mage had to think about. The Chantry and its Templars were harsh toward their kind, but not even the bitterest mage could deny the whisperings of the demons looming in the shadows, ready to strike at the first sign of weakness. She began to walk again and Jowan followed her into the library where they thankfully managed to find an empty corner.

"I won't become an abomination. I will stop using magic."

"You are a _mage_, Jowan. You know as well as I do that demons will always seek you out no matter how much you try to run away from your magic," she snapped before she realised that she had spoken more loudly than intended.

She licked her lips nervously and looked out over the room quickly. An elf was sat by one of the desks in the middle of the library, so heavily engrossed in the tome he was reading that his nose almost touched the parchment. On the other side of the room a Tranquil mage was standing by one of the bookcases, sorting out its books with a blank expression on her face. Fortunately there was not a Templar in sight. She looked back at Jowan. His eyes were filled with sadness and desperation and he moved closer to her, his voiced coming out in a hushed whisper.

"What is the alternative? To let them make me Tranquil? I would rather die than become one of those soulless minions."

He placed a hand on the bookcase behind him and Erin realised that he was shaking. She looked away, refusing to let herself be affected. It was not a small thing they had asked of her, and she had spent the entire night twisting and turning, trying to make sense of it all. She had never felt so conflicted in her entire life.

"If you will not help me, think of Lily. How do you think she will feel when she sees me walking around like a shell? Erin, she _loves _me."

"Jowan, please-"

"What if it was you and him?"

She stared at him, her mouth suddenly dry. _He knows? _He only shook his head with a quiet laugh.

"What, you thought you had managed to keep it a secret for so long? Everyone knows Cullen is in love with you, and you haven't exactly been discreet yourself."

She swallowed, wondering who "everyone" was. Did Irving know? Did _Greagoir _know?

"So tell me Erin, what would you do if you were in my position?"

She suddenly felt irritated at his question and glared darkly at him.

"I have already passed my Harrowing. Chantry law dictates that a harrowed mage cannot be made Tran-"

"Maker's breath will you stop being so-" Jowan sighed in frustration before he took a deep breath and looked at her. "Just imagine yourself being threatened with the Rite of Tranquility."

She scowled at him before she finally resigned and turned her attention back to the Tranquil sorting the books. _What if I was in Jowan's shoes? What if I was being turned into one of them? _  
The Tranquil turned her head then and looked at Erin. Even from where she was stood, Erin could see that her eyes were a deep shade of blue, and even though the Tranquil have no emotions to speak of, she thought she saw sadness in them.

Then she saw herself standing there with the mark of the Chantry star burned onto her forehead. She saw Cullen standing in front of her, trying to bring out emotions that were long gone. His eyes were marked with sadness and she watched him plead with her over and over again. Would he eventually become angry? Bitter? Would he get into trouble and be sent away or would he in the end just, give up? She felt her heart squeeze at the thought, and suddenly felt slightly ill.

She remembered the first time he had professed his feelings to her and the warmth that had covered her body like a blanket after their first kiss. She loved him, but Tranquility would have stripped all of that away from them. She realised that their relationship was just as fragile as Jowan and Lily's was, but out of all the things that threatened their relationship, Tranquility was not one of them.

_You are an idiot. _

"Fine, I'll help," she whispered.

"Thank you, _thank you_."

She tore her eyes away from the Tranquil, looking back at Jowan, and she could almost see the heavy stone lift off his shoulders. They left the library and she looked back at Cullen who was still standing guard outside her quarters.

Love was a weakness, but if she had to choose between that and Tranquility, the choice was easy to her.


	2. Chapter 2

_"We can seek help from the Circle. They have mages and lyrium."_

_Erin stared at the Orlesian woman. They could go back to the Circle, yes, but it was a two day trip and was Isolde really prepared to sacrifice more of her people in order to save her son? The question never managed to reach her lips before Jowan, of all people, spoke._

_"They can't help us."_

_"Why not Jowan?"_

_She glared at him and made no attempts at hiding the anger and bitterness over how everything had turned out because of him; how her life had been decided for her because of misguided trust. Jowan seemed to cower under her gaze, and when he spoke he refused to look her in the eyes._

_"Haven't you heard?"_

_"Heard _what_?"_

_He met her gaze then, and she knew that whatever he was about to say was not going to be good._

_"I heard some rumours while I was in Denerim. The Templars have called for the Right of Annulment. I am sorry Erin, the Circle is lost."_

She had probably been the only mage in Thedas who had wanted to hurry back to the Circle. The others had given her worried glances, but they did not ask; most of them never did. Alistair followed because he did not want to lead, Morrigan because her mother had ordered her to. Sten had decided to stay quiet for once, and Leliana was there out of free will. They never asked, despite the fact that going to the Circle as soon as they had left Redcliffe had not been their original plan. Erin did not care. She had to go, had to see, had to know that he was fine.

Greagoir had looked stunned at the sight of her, but Cullen had not been there. Every fibre in her body wanted to ask, but she already knew the answer. He was trapped in the Tower full of demons and abominations, and so she had offered to help; offered to investigate. She had to find him.

It was not until an old friend had turned into an abomination in front of her eyes that she realised the severity of it all. It washed over her like ice cold water and she suddenly wondered how long they had all been trapped there. A week? Two? She pushed those thoughts aside as she kept fighting and searching.

Wynne joined them, more to save the Circle than anything else. Morrigan had scoffed at the elderly mage, and Erin ignored them both as she kept on moving. Whenever she saw a corpse clad in familiar armour her heart froze, not beating again until she had made sure that it was not him.

They cleared the first floor, then the second. Fighting one abomination was one thing; fighting dozens of them and facing demons, was another. They were exhausted, and despite Erin's protests they decided to get some rest in Irvin's office. No one commented on her determination and impatience; they thought it was because she wanted to save the Circle.

"You need to rest," Alistair said from where he was stood guard. The others were already fast asleep. "You are no good to us if you are exhausted."

"I am no good to you if I become an abomination either," she bit off, staring at the door that lead to the next floor.

They carried on hours later. One of the rooms harboured Templars. Possessed by a desire demon they attacked, and as one of them ran towards her, sword gripped in his hand, she could only stand there and stare in horror. Why did they have their helms on? What if she would be the one to kill him? Someone yanked her from behind, pushing her back, and she blinked in confusion as she watched Alistair knock the Templar down with his shield before piercing him with his sword.

"Are you mad?" He shouted at her afterwards, but she did not bother replying as she examined the corpses they had left.

Perhaps she was.

She eventually found his body crumpled in a corner. Time itself stopped around her and she could no longer hear the screams of tortured mages and Templars. Shaking, she sat down next to him, brushing his copper coloured curls with soft fingers as she suddenly found it difficult to_breathe_. There were burn marks on his face, terror in his eyes. She had failed.

She never should have helped Jowan. She never should have left the Tower. If she had been there she could have saved him.

_She_ was the mage, _she_ was the one they wanted, _she_ should have taken the blow.

Suddenly she understood how Alistair felt.

"Erin."

She looked up, tears in her eyes, and scowled as she saw Morrigan standing there, arms crossed over her chest and a look of impatience and irritation on her face.

"Morrigan?"

_What are you doing here?_

"Get up, Erin, we need to go."

She shook her head before turning her attention back to Cullen's corpse.

"Leave me alone."

The witch walked over to the other side of his corpse, her her hazel eyes going over the insignia on his armour before she gave the elf a look of disbelief.

_A Templar? Really?_

Erin glared back. Seconds later she felt a slap and she blinked in shock.

"Get up you fool girl, this is the Fade!"

Erin blinked again, her mind spinning. _The Fade_. It all came back to her then; the Sloth demon, Niall's body, the darkness that had surrounded her as she had been unable to fight the urge to fall asleep. She quietly rose to her feet, and without a backward look at the corpse they left her nightmare.

She was on the brink of exhaustion when they found him kneeling in a cage of torture and despair. He looked up and the pained expression on his face made her heart want to break.

"This trick again? I know what you are. It won't work. I will stay strong..."

She walked up to the cage and tried to make him look at her, but his head was bowed down in silent prayer.

"Cullen," she whispered. "Cullen, it's me."

"Enough visions! If anything in you is human... kill me now and stop this game."

_"I-I need to talk to you."_

_"What's on your mind, Cullen?"_

"You broke the others, but I will stay strong, for my sake... for theirs..."

"Cullen-"

"Don't touch me! Stay away!"

_"I love you."_

_"Come again?"_

_"I-I've been trying to deny it. I am a Templar and I... can't... we can't... but I can't keep it hidden any longer."_

"Sifting through my thoughts... tempting me with the one thing I always wanted but can never have..."

_"But... I'm a mage."_

"Using my shame against me... my ill-advised infatuation with her... a _mage_, of all things. I am so tired of these cruel jokes... these tricks... these..."

"Cullen."

She tried to keep her voice steady but there was a lump in her throat, threatening to make her choke. He looked at her then and she saw rage in his eyes; rage against the demons who had tortured him for so long, rage against her.

"Silence! I'll not listen to anything you say. Now be gone, demon!"

He stood up and for the fraction of a second she saw peace in his eyes, then realisation. She was still there and he stared at her in disbelief before he took a step back. She was real and he knew that now.

_"I know, believe me, I know. I... I don't care. I love you Erin, and I hope that... maybe you feel the same for me."_

"It was the foolish fancy of a naive boy," he finally said in a voice that was laced with bitterness. "I know better now."

_"Cullen."_

_"Y-yes?"_

_"Kiss me."_

Despite the pain she kept her face carefully blank. She could say nothing; do nothing to make him forget what he had gone through. He had seen the evil of what people like her could do. She was no longer the woman he loved; now she was just another mage to be kept under heavy watch.

Wynne was talking to him but her voice was far away and drowned out by the heavy pounding in Erin's head. Every word he shouted in reply against her and her kind struck her like fire. She could only look away as it was the only thing keeping her from collapsing.

"They are in the Harrowing chamber."

"Let's go," she mumbled, grateful for the escape.

"You can't save them!" He shouted after her as she rushed up the stairs.

He had been right, in a way. Exhaustion mixed with the emotional scars the past two days had left her with was a recipe for disaster if you were fighting a Pride demon. She had forgotten the words from the Litany of Adralla long ago, and when Uldred finally fell, so did Irving. Erin could only stare mutedly as her mentor took a final ragged breath in Wynne's arms. They had failed.

The boat ride back from the Tower was quiet. Thankfully everyone had left her alone. As soon as they were back at the dock however, Alistair pulled her aside.

"That Templar... what was that all about?"

She stared at him with tired eyes. What could she say? Alistair would not understand. Then again, they had all seen it. She looked back at the Tower, dark and haunting as it soared over Lake Calenhad.

"He loved me," she managed to whisper in a voice filled with defeat.

"That much was clear," her fellow Grey Warden replied and she could hear the joking tone in his voice.

Tears welled up then and everything she had managed to keep in ever since they had arrived at Kinloch Hold crashed down over her.

"Oh Erin, I'm sorry."

He hugged her as she wept quietly.

She had fought demons in the Fade to save Cullen, but what did that matter when the demons had already won?


	3. Chapter 3

It was a still afternoon as Cullen sat in the Chantry garden, looking out over the crashing waves of the Waking Sea. It had been two years, and yet the nightmares still haunted him. He was certain that the Knight-Commander had only meant well by sending him to Greenfell.

_"You can return as soon as you get better."_

As soon as he stopped twitching at every odd noise; as soon as he would stop panicking whenever he felt magic being used; and while Greenfell was far away from Kinloch Hold and its mages, he felt no better now than when he had gotten away from his cage at the Tower. Irving had died and she had left again, and trying to forget about her was about as easy as trying to forget about the blood mages who had poisoned his mind against her.

_Time heals all wounds_, The Revered Mother had told him when he had first arrived. Did it heal the memories of having pushed away the one he loved as well?

Every now and then he would think that he was better again, and then a traveller or a merchant would stop by the small fishing village with news, and it made the pain come back with renewed strength.

_The Blight is over! The Archdemon was killed at the top of Fort Drakon. The Hero of Ferelden is a mage of all things. Hard to believe, eh?_

_The new Warden-Commander saved Amaranthine from a darkspawn raid. Vigil's Keep was overrun in the process._

Then a year ago he had stopped hearing of her. She had disappeared they had said. No one knew where she was, not even the Queen, and when the Chantry had decided to send Templars after her, branding her an apostate, her phylactery had been discovered missing. The Hero of Ferelden was gone.

Cullen had been relieved at first. One less mage in Ferelden to worry about. He had hated her, hated himself for what he had let himself feel for her. He had been certain that if she had never entered his life, the torture he had endured when Uldred had gone mad would not have been as mind wrenching. Now that certainty was gone.

He sighed and left the garden and the Chantry. The village was still, only a group of children were outside, playing on the dry roads. The Chant of Light moved with the wind and the steady voice of the Revered Mother followed him as he walked.

He still remembered the visions, clear as day, as if it had only happened a moment ago. It was _her_ face the demon had worn when it had tried to seduce him; her hands on his face, back, groin. He had wanted to believe, wanted to hope that it had been real and that the Grey Warden who had taken her away had been a nightmare. Instead he had remained strong, waiting in his cage, hoping for a rescue while listening to his brother's screams as they succumbed to their torture, one after one, until it was only him left.

Then he had seen her fight against a swarm of demons, fire dancing around her hands as she took the horrors down one after one. There were too many of them however, and he knew that it was a losing battle. He could not help her; stuck in his cage he could only watch as she died, over and over again, while dark whispers told him that he could save her. _If_ he let them in.

By the time she and her companions had arrived it had been too late. As soon as he had seen her, he had also seen the nightmares, the demons and the blood mages behind them. How could he love her if he hated her at the same time?

Yes, he still had nightmares, but not of the demons or the blood mages. They were of her.

He reached the high cliffs and the salty smell of the water reached his nostrils. He often sat there, staring out, praying that things would go back to the way they were. Sometimes he closed his eyes and pretended that he was back at Kinloch Hold. The smell of water helped, sometimes.

He listened to the waves, the laughter coming from the children and the horns from the boats in the sea below. Then he heard a familiar sound; the sound of heavy armour hitting hard ground and the rustling it made as its wearer moved. The sound of a soldier. He opened his eyes, expecting to see a Templar who had come for him, hopefully bringing a message from the Knight-Commander, but when he turned his head he saw _her_.

She was clad in dark plate and the hilt of a sword peering up over her shoulder. She looked older, as if she had carried the weight of the world on her shoulders for Maker knows how long. There were tired lines around her dark green eyes, and he did not remember her looking so pale when they had been at the Tower; before the Grey Wardens. Her hair was the same though, dark and wavy and kept back with a band. Some of it fell into her eyes and she instinctively pulled it back behind a delicately pointed ear.

_Like she had always done._

He stared at her in silence, realising full well that this was not her and that he was stood in front of a demon, clad in nothing but a shirt and trousers and unarmed. _You idiot!_

She noticed his expression and he saw a crease forming on her forehead, but she said nothing. She made no sign of attacking him either, and as he heard the heavy panting of an animal and saw a mabari appear next to her, realisation struck.

The hound watched him curiously, grunting slightly as its head tilted to the side.

"It's okay, boy," she whispered calmly before she scratched the mabari behind its ears.

He had so many questions. Where had she been? Why was she here? How had she found him?

"Why are you wearing plate?" _Good job._

She chuckled and it was not until the sound reached his ears that he realised how much he had missed it.

"It's a disguise."

He could not tell if she was serious or not.

"They are looking for you, you know."

"Oh? Who?"

"They say that you are an apostate now."

She froze in her movements and he saw a sadness appear in her eyes. He wanted to shove his foot into his mouth for causing it.

"I understand if you want to bring me back to them then."

He hated himself for it, but the thought crossed his mind. He was still a Templar and everything he had learned about apostates was that they either needed to be caught and brought back to the Circle, or killed if they made any resistance. Cullen had no doubts that Greagoir would be pleased if he returned with her in chains, but then the vision of her fighting the demons and dying while he could only watch appeared in front of his eyes and he closed them to make the memory go away.

"No," he finally answered before he opened his eyes and looked at her again.

_"I can give you what you always wanted, Cullen." A hand on his neck, the other sending trails of fire on his back. Her legs wrapped around him as her naked body pressed against his and her lips were everywhere._

He had dreamed of seeing her again, prayed that she was okay and that he would find her, but the nightmares swirled around his mind as soon as he looked at her. Maker, he was not ready for this and it broke him. He had to look away.

"I am not a demon, Cullen."

_The moans escaping her lips made his blood boil and he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep his eyes closed. He would not give in._

"Why are you here?" he asked, his voice suddenly harsh.

She took a step towards him, removing her gauntlets as she did so, and he took a step back. His reluctance to be close to her did not stop her, and she kept on walking until his back hit rock and he had nowhere else to go.

_"Come now, Cullen. We can be together, be free from the Circle and the Chantry and just be us. Do you not love me?"_

_"You are _not_ her!"_

"There is nothing for you here!" he shouted, and then her hands reached up to his face and he was forced to meet her gaze.

"You are here," she said quietly.

There was a moment of silence as he blinked at her, and then she smiled. She placed a hand on his chest, over his heart, and it was all clear. She had come for him. She had searched for him, and she had found him.

"I am not a demon, Cullen."

_"I will not be haunted by you any longer demon. Be gone!"_

He allowed himself to touch her, carefully stroking her cheek with light fingers. The familiarity of it all, of her standing in front of him smiling and alive and _real_ made him calm.

"I still love you," he whispered.

"I know."

His mind was at peace.

She was there and the nightmares were gone.


End file.
